Life at the BBC, in the small office with a jolly gang to work with was an initially settled period. The BBC still had something of a family feel about it, with lots of ways to explore interests as well as try to move roles. I enjoyed a fascinating early evening once, watching the 6 p.m. news produced and read out on Radio 4. I was interested in the joining the technical side of radio, unsurprisingly after our experiences at school. The job involved cueing up the spoken reports produced on tape for the items, logging the times of each to make sure the broadcast ran to time. Editors were around rewriting items as required whilst the newsreader carried on. My application came to nothing.
The work I did was not too taxing leaving time for looking round, having a longish Friday lunchtime in a Carnaby Street pub, or strolling through the Liberty store. I produced paperwork that paid bills by the production of cheques. We had to marry up the various carbon copies of each order to make sure the goods were supplied then paid for. The deadline for submitting the weeks work to the computer people was midday each Friday. Occasionally an urgent cheque would be required so armed with special paperwork I’d make my way to a nearby office where two chaps had access to a machine that could print a cheque there and then.
The upshot was that eventually Jean, the boss, mentioned to me in an appraisal session that I would make a good accountant and the BBC would sponsor me through night classes. By now knowing I was unlikely to get a technical job, I’d become restless and a little bored with the routine of the work. Though occasionally the day was brightened by dealing with well known personalities there was little excitement and the stress of commuting. The latter was not always straight forward. So now I had to decide, was I to be an accountant or do something else?
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